Pfunksfoolosophy

She sat before her computer. With no clear idea of the time of day, she looked down at her coffee, jelly and goodness knows what stained pajama bottoms, she sighed. A shower was in order, but she was determined to find a book. THE book from her childhood.

Certainly, she had other projects waiting for her…lying fallow because of her mania. Why was she avoiding the completion of her projects? Because she had a dream about this book. It isn’t a book that is so obscure that she must scour the very ends of the information superhighway…it’s Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking -glass and What Alice Found There”. Simple enough, but she wanted a particular binding and was encountering trouble locating it.

Could she remember the publisher? Nope. The year of publication? Ah…a vague idea.

What was so important about this book? What was the urgency? It seems that our heroine felt a need to connect with her childhood. She wanted to remember a time when she was safe and happy and well adjusted. Did she feel maladjusted now? No…she just wanted a piece of her childhood, since much of it had been lost in all of the moves she’s made in her life.

She’s on her quest even now…pray for her. This could perk up her spirits. It could also drive her slowly, deeper into her insanity.

Or she could give up and go get a milkshake. Life’s uncertain. Have dessert first.

Hope you enjoy it. It’s mine, so if you want to use it, you sure as heck better talk to me about it.

My Soul is a Witness 

My soul is a witness

The biographer

The cartographer

Mapping out

The slings and arrows

Of a race’s outrageous misfortune

Of tenacious survivors

(that’s deep)  My soul is a witness

To the turmoil

Sweating fear

Lingering near When the blue lightsShine in my rearview mirror  My soul is a witness

To the crime and the grime

People just trying to survive

Living one moment at a time To the stinging tearsOf mothers waiting in rooms For boys just out of the womb

Trying to be men

Rooms with cold eyes

And colder hearts

Men talking down to them

Because they wear a badge

And carry a stick 

My soul is a witness

To the irony  of striving just to stay in one place

‘Cause we don’t want it gettin’ any worse.  My soul is a witness To the love and the longingThe joy of belonging

To this tribe of many nationsAll my relationsMaking love In chocolate brown

In sepia, mahogany

High yella, caramel

Ebony, redbone

Light bright-And sometimes white‘cause my soul can witness

In Technicolor

And black and white 

My soul is a witness

To profilin’

Devastatin’ Dozens playin’ laughter

And the ease of just being

‘Cause sometimes that’s all we have

When your soul is a witness

To a violent history

To a shattered past

When your soul is a witness

to misunderstandings written in your ancestors’ blood

Let my soul witness something new

Let my soul witness hope